Descent

by Natasha Knight

  The memory tightens my chest. My dad may have been shitty to me but I’m sure it was nothing to what she’d been through. Not if I remember the terror in her eyes on those nights.

  When Persephone moved in next door, they instantly became friends.

  I wonder if Persephone remembers today is Nora’s birthday.

  As I approach the building that houses my father’s office, I force thoughts of Nora out of my mind. There’s time to think about her. To remember her. Right now, though, I need to talk to my father.

  I park and climb out, looking up at the high-rise in the posh neighborhood. It’s one of his own buildings and he’s mortgaged to his eyeballs, a fact he doesn’t know I know. I wonder if he could sell the plot of land the Montgomery ruin stands on, he would.

  His hands are tied, though.

  That house has been the seat of the Montgomery family for generations. If he tries to sell it, he loses it and, as first-born, it becomes mine. But if he holds onto it, when he dies, he can leave it to whichever of us he wants. I’m guessing that’ll be Jonas who isn’t even a Montgomery by blood.

  I’m sure my grandfather will flip in his grave when that day comes.

  I enter the building, half-expecting to be turned away. I wouldn’t be surprised if my father banned me from entering the premises. I push the button to call the elevator and take off my gloves as I wait for it to descend. In a few minutes, I’m riding up to the twenty-second floor.

  There, the receptionist greets me, quickly hiding her surprise at seeing me there. I smile and bypass her to walk through the office, aware of the silence that descends as people recognize me, the whispers that follow in my wake.

  My father’s secretary is on her feet and around the desk before I get to his door. The receptionist must have notified her.

  “Hayden. What a surprise. How are you?” she asks awkwardly.

  “Maryanne, good to see you,” I say. “No need to announce me.”

  She follows me as I make my way to the door, puts her hand on my arm to stop me.

  “I’m afraid you can’t go in there just now. He’s in a meeting.”

  I smile, remove her hand. “I’ll let him know you tried to stop me,” I say as I open the door to find my father sitting behind his desk and Jonas leaning his weight against the floor-to-ceiling window.

  “What the…” my father starts, then stops as soon as he sees me.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Montgomery, I tried to tell him you were in a meeting, sir.”

  “Dad,” I greet, walking inside.

  “Should I call security, sir?” Maryanne asks.

  “Maryanne, I thought we were friends,” I say, my tone mocking as I move to close the door in her face.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” Jonas asks.

  My father is leaning back against his seat watching me.

  Two birds, one stone, I think to myself. I take a seat. “Had an interesting meeting with Dominic Benedetti today.”

  Jonas snorts. He works for dad. He has since he came of age and dad’s been grooming him to take over the family business. Or what will be left of it when I’m through.

  “You working with the mob now?” Jonas asks.

  “You’d know more about that than I would,” I say to him, keeping my eyes on my father. “When did you get involved with Angus Scava?”

  “That’s privileged information. You chose not to be a part of the family business, remember, son? You lost your privilege,” my father answers. “And now that you stole controlling shares of Abbot Enterprises from poor Quincy’s daughter, we’re competitors.”

  “Poor Quincy?” I have to chuckle. “You two were friends?”

  “Why are you here?” he asks.

  “I want to know your business with Scava.”

  “Like I said, that’s privileged. Unless you’re here to discuss the sale of the property Abbot stole out from under me, we have no business.”

  “Did you have anything to do with Abbot’s hit-and-run?”

  There’s a flicker, the smallest twitch at the corner of his eye. If I didn’t know my father so well, I wouldn’t notice. I doubt most people would.

  “What the hell are you talking about?” he answers, a millisecond too late. “That was an accident. A tragic accident.”

  “He was your enemy.”

  “He was my competitor. There’s a difference.”

  “But him being out of the picture would have worked out fine for you and your partner, Angus Scava.”

  “It would have but you stepped into Abbot’s shoes, didn’t you? Maybe you were driving the car that hit him.”

  “Not my M.O. As you know, I like for my enemies to see me coming.” I give him a wide grin.

  My father glares.

  Jonas walks toward us, leans against the desk and folds his arms across his chest. “How’s Percy? You knock some sense into her?”

  I get to my feet and step to him. “If I learn you laid a finger on her—"

  “We were engaged,” he interrupts. “I laid more than a finger on her.”

  I grit my teeth. He’s egging me on. It’s not true. I know that for a fact. “If you ever hurt her, I will kill you, do you understand me?”

  “Are you threatening me? I thought we were better than that. Letting pussy get in the way of our brotherly love and all.”

  I take him by the collar because I can’t not. “Be careful, Jonas, be very fucking careful.”

  “Today was your sister’s birthday,” my father says, interrupting. “Let’s honor that by not killing each other, shall we?”

  Jonas’ expression changes, the fight goes out of him. It’s like his whole body seems to cave in on itself.

  “Don’t tell me you miss her,” I say.

  He looks at me. “Some of us are human. With feelings.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Fuck you.”

  The door opens then, and two security guards enter.

  My father is on his feet. “Let’s not cause a scene here too, son.”

  “Yeah, son,” Jonas mocks.

  One of the guards puts a hand to my shoulder. I shrug it off.

  “Stay away from Persephone,” I tell Jonas once more before turning to my father. “Have you signed off on my bid yet?” I put in an offer to buy a part of the company. It would save him, but it would give me control.

  “Fuck your bid,” he says.

  I grin but it’s forced. “You’re almost out of money.”

  “You’ve got bad information.”

  “I don’t think so. I’ll give you twenty-four hours.”

  “Sir, come with us,” the guard says.

  “I’m on my way out,” I tell him, turning to the two men and pushing through them.

  “Follow him. Make sure he leaves the building,” I hear Jonas tell them as I make my way back out of the offices.

  26

  Persephone

  I pick up the bottle of vodka and I pour myself another generous glass. Half the bottle is gone because no matter how hard I try I can’t stop going over what happened with Hayden this morning. How he dismissed me afterward.

  I feel humiliated and used and I know it’s my own fault. I asked for it, but I couldn’t think of any other way to distract him.

  On top of that, today is October 31st. Nora’s birthday.

  I was sixteen when she died and back then, it was hard to get to the cemetery with having to rely on my stepmom or dad for a ride so every year on this night, once everyone had gone to bed, I’d sneak out to the chapel ruin to spend a few minutes talking to her, letting her know I hadn’t forgotten her. The last couple of years I wasn’t sneaking anymore, but I still only went after everyone was in bed.

  My dad always got weird when I brought up Nora. Grew quiet. I know better since the accident why that was.

  Drinking the rest of the vodka, I stand up. I turn around to take the painting off the wall and set it on the floor. Behind it is my father’s safe. I have the combination. Our lawyer
gave it to me in a sealed envelope after dad’s accident and I’m the only one who knows it.

  I enter the numbers which I’ve memorized, my heart heavy as Hayden’s words come back to me.

  “If you knew what your own father was capable of—”

  The door feels heavier than usual and I stumble backward once before finally getting it open. Inside are files containing deeds and original copies of contracts, etc. Exactly what you’d expect. After the accident, when I first opened it, I found a second compartment inside the safe. A hidden one.

  Lifting the folders out, I reach back and slip my hand into that compartment now. I feel the velvet wrapping. I pull it out and set the folders back in place.

  Looking down at what I know is a book beneath the velvet, I brush away a speck of dust.

  I look at it for a long minute, remember the last time I saw it. It was also the first time. I haven’t been able to look at it since.

  It was two days after the hit-and-run. When we were just glad he was alive, even if he was unconscious. Dad had left me in charge of Abbot Enterprises. I wonder if he ever considered that something might happen to him and that I’d be the one to find this. I don’t think so. I think he would have destroyed it if he’d given it a thought.

  I set the book down on the desk, close the safe door and hang the painting back up. Hayden’s words echo in my mind. “If you knew what your own father was capable of—”

  “You’re wrong. So wrong,” I say out loud and sit down.

  I pick up my glass and swallow back the contents before unwrapping the velvet. I should stop with the vodka but tonight, I need it.

  I don’t touch the book at first. It’s mine. I’d lent it to Nora years ago. I think we were maybe thirteen or fourteen and she’d never returned it. Or maybe she just hadn’t had a chance to.

  But somehow, it’s here. Somehow my father had it hidden away in his safe.

  The book opens easily to the page where she’d tucked the photo and I wonder again why my father had it. Why he was hiding it. And I know I shouldn’t look. I should burn it. Destroy any evidence for everyone’s sake. But here I am, my heart in my throat, taking out the small photograph.

  Did dad confront either of them, I wonder? How long had he known?

  I look at Nora’s face. I think this is the last photo of her before she died. There’s no date, but we’d gone to get our hair cut together and she’d chopped hers off. I’d been so surprised, but now it makes sense. Like she was preparing. It was only weeks before that Halloween when everything changed.

  Nora is looking into the camera. She’s smiling her smile and even through the picture, I see how sad it is.

  And him, he’s not smiling. Not at all.

  He’s looking at her. I wonder if he realized she was taking the photo from the angle. I can’t imagine he’d have gone along with it.

  They’re both naked and the way he has his arm across her chest, hand closed over her breast, the way he’s looking at her, it makes me feel a little sick.

  I think about my father seeing this. Why would he keep it? And how did he get it?

  I turn it over, look at the two words written there. I recognize her handwriting.

  I can’t.

  That’s it. Two words.

  Pouring myself another vodka, I drain the glass just as my cell phone rings, startling me so I gasp like I’ve just been caught doing something I shouldn’t be doing. I look at the screen. The number is blocked. I check the time. A few minutes to midnight.

  It could be Lizzie.

  I swipe the green bar to answer, not wanting to put the phone to my ear for some reason. I push the button for speaker and say hello. I have to repeat myself when there’s no reply.

  An exhale of breath and a man’s voice, one unfamiliar to me, comes on. “You’re late. Better get to the chapel before your boyfriend does.”

  Before I can even register the message, the caller disconnects.

  I sit there for a long minute looking at it, then shift my gaze back to the book where I’m holding the page open. The photograph partially hidden beneath my fingers.

  “You’re late. Better get to the chapel before your boyfriend does.”

  I shift my attention back to the phone unsure if that just happened or if it was the vodka and my imagination. But either way, I need to get to the chapel.

  I fold the velvet over it and shove it into a drawer, suddenly in a hurry to get to the church.

  Taking my phone with me, I hastily walk through the quiet, dark house. Hadn’t I turned on any lights earlier? I go through the kitchen, slipping on my coat and opening the door as I zip it up. Freezing rain falls, the start of another storm, the slushy remains of the snow mud beneath my boots now.

  Lightning in the distance brightens my path as I make my way to the chapel. I glance over at the ruin of the Montgomery house, dark and even more foreboding since the fire. I don’t know why Jeremiah Montgomery didn’t repair it. Why he’s left it to rot.

  I hug my arms to myself as I walk quickly to the church, taking my phone out of my pocket to use the flashlight as the night goes black between those electrical flashes.

  I’m almost there though. I can smell it, over the smell of rain. It’s like incense still lingers in the air from when the chapel was in use. I wonder how long ago that was.

  When I get closer, I notice something odd. Out of place. It makes me stop.

  It’s not pitch-black inside.

  I look around, suddenly afraid. The night is so dark, someone could be hiding, couldn’t they?

  The caller.

  But why?

  How did he know when I come out here? That I would come here at all? And why did he want me to come?

  A wet wind blows, animating me again and I hurry toward the broken entrance and push the door open. The creak is eerie, and I see the source of the dim light. It’s the altar candles. They’ve been lit and they flicker with my entrance and it makes me remember that night. Our last Halloween.

  A shudder runs along my spine colder than the outside air.

  For a moment, I’m a child again. A scared little girl who believes in ghosts.

  Nora and I became best friends almost as soon as I moved into my father’s house, but she had a darker side. We were ten that first Halloween and I remember coming out here with her. She’d thought it would be fun to be here on that particular night and since it was her birthday, I couldn’t refuse. We did it every year after that and those nights, she was so energized, almost manic. When we were thirteen, I remember Jonas had joined us. He was with us a lot after that.

  That was the first year they began to don their black cloaks. Nora had said Jonas had gotten them for her birthday.

  He and Nora had been there when I arrived. They were wearing their black cloaks with hoods up and they’d lit the candles. At the center of the altar was a Ouija board. I remember how scared I’d been that night. How I’d run home when the cross hanging over the altar had broken with an unearthly noise. How the two of them had looked standing underneath it in their black cloaks, hoods up, covering their heads and shadowing their faces.

  My mind wanders to the last Halloween the three of us were here. It was only days before she’d do it. I remember how Nora had been. How Jonas had been. I can’t think about what he might have done, what she might have made him do, if Hayden hadn’t come.

  I shake my head, force myself into the present. I steel myself. Because someone wants me here. Why?

  I scan the interior. I’m alone. But it doesn’t make me any less afraid though.

  I climb two of the steps, my eyes on the altar. I try not to see the stain on the stone. Because this is where she did it. Where Nora died. I swear I can feel her here tonight and I shudder.

  But when I’m at the top of the sixth step, I see it.

  I see what’s between the two burning candles. A dark red envelope stark on the ancient slab.

  I walk inside and the moment I do, something crashes behind me. I jump
, spinning around, and watch as the broken door hits the stone again, clattering closed.

  It’s just the door. It’s always done that.

  Taking a shuddering breath, I face the altar again and walk with heavy steps toward it. My heart races and in my periphery, I see the evidence of Nora’s suicide seeped into the stone, the red black now, a part of the stone forever like she’s part of it forever. Part of this place.

  I take another deep, shaky breath in and look at the envelope and I recognize her handwriting right away. I swallow, wrap my arms around myself because even with my coat, I’m freezing.

  I make myself read the single letter she wrote in her dramatic script at the center.

  It’s the letter Q.

  “If you knew what your own father was capable of—”

  My hand trembles as I reach for it. I pick it up, turn it over. It was sealed once and ripped when it opened.

  I reach inside to take out the three pieces of paper there.

  Two I recognize. A torn check. My father’s name and our address on the top left-hand corner. It’s made out to Nora Montgomery.

  My stomach turns.

  “If you knew what your own father was capable of—”

  Against the warnings repeating in my mind, I open the folded, yellowed sheet of paper and I read the few words.

  Dear Q,

  I can’t lie to you anymore. It’s not yours. And I can’t accept your money because I can’t get rid of it. I’m sorry. I love him.

  Nora

  “What are you doing out here?”

  I gasp spinning and backing into the altar, the envelope falling to the church floor.

  Hayden stands looking at me, eyes dark, hair wet, clothes disheveled.

  “I saw the light. I followed you,” he says.

  The light? My cell phone.

  He looks me over, looks at the burning candles, the papers in my hand, the envelope by my feet and it’s like all the vodka I drank is just hitting me now.

  It’s not yours…I can’t get rid of it.

  No. It’s not what I think. It can’t be. I would have known, wouldn’t I?

  “If you knew what your own father was capable of—”